Tasty treasure from the sea rides a con
veyor belt from ship to shore at the Thomp
son & O'Neal Shrimp Co. in Key West. As
many as 500 boats, fishing the keys' rich
beds only at night, annually harvest 113/
million pounds of the succulent crescents.
Cleaning his catch in Key West Harbor,
C. B. McHugh swacks a sponge with a pad
dle. Sailing alone, he has grappled as many
as 2,000 from the bottom in a week. He lets
them dry before rinsing them in sea water
and then pounding to remove the decayed
animal matter. Key West was Florida's
sponge center until a blight hit the area.
Today sponges are plentiful again and the
fishery slowly revives.
escort. Barracuda and sleek amberjack ("Forty
pounds easy," Gainey estimated) patrolled
the 10-foot shoal on which the old ship lay.
Four hours and 40 miles farther west,
another astonishing sight rose from the sea:
the brooding mass of old Fort Jefferson, whose
massive brick battlements encircle nearly the
whole of Garden Key, in the Dry Tortugas
(following pages).
During the Civil War, this "Gibraltar of
America" did duty as a Union prison. "Wether
allkillen warm," noted Sgt. Harrison Herrick
of the 110th New York Volunteers, who ar
rived in March of 1864 in charge of 68 pris
oners. Herrick's diary, in its matter-of-fact
way, preserves a vivid record of the tedium
and the occasional humor-of life on this
desolate outpost.
"Sunday, March 19, 1865. After retreat,
Doctor Holder & old Frost had a cat thron
in the Break Water for the Shark, but he did
not seam to like cat meat... & som of the
prisners haled her up on an old shirt that they
had fast to aline. Mrs. Devendorf [one of the
officers' wives] was mighty mad about it."
Life Sentence Shortened by a Selfless Act
The Civil War ended at Appomattox on
April 9, 1865. The tidings took nearly two
weeks to reach the isolated garrison.
But Fort Jefferson's most memorable chap
ter still lay ahead. On April 15, 1865, Abra
ham Lincoln lay dead, shot by actor John
Wilkes Booth while attending Ford's Theatre.
Unaware of his patient's identity, Dr. Samuel
A. Mudd, a country doctor in southern Mary
land, briefly sheltered the assassin while
setting his broken leg.
In the ensuing trial, indignation overrode
justice. Dr. Mudd was sentenced to life im
prisonment for aiding Booth. Shipped off to
Fort Jefferson, he was cast into one of its
gloomy cells on July 24, 1865.
Two years ticked slowly by. Then, in
August 1867, disaster struck. Of Fort Jeffer
son's 300 people, 270 came down with yellow
fever. On September 8 the post surgeon
breathed his last. The next day Dr. Mudd was
released from his cell.
The prisoner and two doctors who had
rushed from Key West fought the outbreak
as best they could. "I could do more," said
Dr. Mudd, "by a few consoling words than
with all the medicine known to me." Only 38
people died.
Garden Key's survivors signed a petition
asking President Andrew Johnson to pardon
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